


something so magic about you

by psychicbees



Category: The Lady of Shalott - Alfred Lord Tennyson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicbees/pseuds/psychicbees
Summary: the lady lived a simple life, once upon a time.





	something so magic about you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [troubledsouls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubledsouls/gifts).



The Lady lived a simple life, once upon a time. She spent her days weaving by the mirror that pretended to be a window, a loom in her lap and a basket of silks by her side. She spent her nights cleaning, rubbing her hands raw on the time-worn floors of her prison. During those endless nights, she told herself stories, because she had never had anyone to tell her stories, to draw her onto their knee and tell her wild tales. She invented a hero, a gallant knight who would sweep her off onto wild adventures. She named her knight Sir Lancelot, and she guarded him close to her heart.

 She brought him out only when she was alone, away from the Matron with her sharp eyes and blood-colored cloak. Away from the woman who pretended to be her mother.

Once, she imagined that Sir Lancelot led her out of the tower, out from the false-glass windows and the heavy gaze of the Matron. Out onto the river, into a rowboat blazing with golden light, into the future.

That very night, she stopped waiting for her hero to rescue her. She decided to save herself. And so she took a cloak from her seldom-used closet, and her favorite silks, and a candle, and she unlocked the heavy door and slipped out.

And sure enough, just as she’d imagined, there was a boat nestled in the scrub by the river. It was rickety and old, sure, but it was hers.

She lit the lamp at the front and climbed in, and pushed away from the bank, and listened to the river water slap against the hull.

The boat drifted downstream. It drifted past small clusters of trees, past content cows grazing on the banks, and past a traveler, spurring a weary horse down the riverside road. This was what surprised the Lady the most, mainly because she never actually saw people besides the Matron and scattered reflections of herself.

She called out to the traveler, _where am I?_ and the traveler lifted her hood and revealed a girl not much older than her. The traveler responded, _you’re in Shalott, of course_ , and then, _I’m Gwen. Do you need help?_

The Lady smiled. _I don’t think so, thank you_.

(She recognized the name, of course. She remembered that someone important (her mother? her father?) had been from Shalott. That made her sad, although she didn't know why.)

She began to cry, although she didn't know why.

And the Lady cried, for she did not know where she was. She cried, for she did not know _who_ she was. She cried, for despite her collected exterior, she was really quite afraid.

The boat drifted further downstream. The Lady drifted with it.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for brit lit and decided to post it. this actually has nothing to do with the lady of shalott, i'm just using alfred's characters. 
> 
> i'm on tumblr @psychicbees come punch me in the face
> 
> title is from "from eden" by hozier


End file.
